Homeless In Seattle

There was a guy on the corner down where downtown starts to become the less shiny and full of professional buildings downtown, down where the buildings are only a couple of stories tall and somehow always gray. This guy was doing a little dance. Actually, by little I mean a really big, sort of spastic dance. And I don’t want to make any assumptions, but I’m pretty sure he was homeless as most (again, most) non homeless people do not have their own shopping carts, nor do they do seizure dances on the corner.

Shakey McShakerson made me think about my favorite homeless folks in San Francisco, and I realized that I missed some of ‘em a little bit. You know, once you get used to seeing something every day, you sort of pine for it when it’s gone – even if it does smell remarkably like cheap gin and urine.

There was the “How you doin’” guy. An elder black man that sat on the steps of the church on Haight Street (which had been closed for the 7+ years that I lived there) and would always ask, “how you doin’” from half a block away, before he hit you up for change.

And the tourettes guy who sat on the bench at the California Street cable car turn-around. Man, nobody could spout a nonsensical stream of filthy and angry gibberish like that guy. God speed you, crazy cable car turn-around guy!

I also started to pine for the days when I would walk through the financial district and see R. Crumb’s brother sitting in a yoga pose, chewing string.

There is a concern that the winter up here will thin out the homeless herd. I mean it’s not that big of a concern, frankly I would probably sleep better without the yelling at night. But I may not get the chance to learn of them by their acts and habits. And I’m not sure if any of them had Mr. Heron for Driver’s Ed in high school, but he always told us, if you’re homeless – head south, it’s warmer.